A Weird Stress

Beneath the dusty green tree,

In front of my place, where there used to be a forest,

I start my walk here.

On the side of the road ahead, without any partitions,

I stop and have tea,

A gigantic hole in the ground,

In front, is the sight I see.

Bearded, dusty, sweaty, but cheerful,

The workers fit the pieces

Of the deeply anticipated humongous mall,

Who then will ask my tea guy

To run away with his stall.

Ahead I go, yawning my dreams away,

A lady asks for alms,

In a half torn saree, an ecstatic kid in her lap,

My hands dont even wait for

Signals from my brain, to help her.

Broken sidewalks, helpless folk,

Depressed traffic, powerful choke.

Sky-kissing buildings, next to a slum,

An ocean of apathy, a meadow of numb.

So I skip my office, I change my path,

I go straight instead of right

To a bar, I drink myself to death

My mother always says, I have all the money,

But I don’t have any faith.

Doctor says your liver will explode

One day, with this amount of rum,

I say, doctor, I know

That a liver grows itself back,

Hence I use it to attack,

A weird stress that I get.